


The Heart of a Dead Prince

by Fantismal



Series: Missing an Angel [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Angels, M/M, Sammael is Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is sent on a mission from God, but Sammael is determined to distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart of a Dead Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VGiselleH](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=VGiselleH).



> This story is set after Chapter 12 of _A History of Heaven_ , several generations after Michael and Sammael (who will become Lucifer) first took vessels. It's highly recommended that you read that first, or you'll probably be confused.
> 
> This is the last piece of the Missing an Angel series that I have written. That’s not to say there won’t ever be more, but this is the end of the regular updates. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself after this!
> 
> Thank you, everyone who has read this entire work. I am extremely proud of what I managed to accomplish, and all of your kind reviews have validated my effort. I am incredibly grateful.

Sammael picked up an old shield and blew off the dust, right into Michael’s face. He smirked as the older angel coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. “Made you react.”

“That was an involuntary muscle spasm of this vessel,” Michael grumbled. “Not _me_.”

“Gabe would argue otherwise. When we are in our vessels,” Sammael quoted, fluffing out his wings like their tiny golden brother who strove so hard to be seen as bigger than he was, “we _are_ our vessels, and they are we.”

“Gabriel doesn’t talk like that.” Michael touched his fingers to a delicately carved stone sarcophagus lid, and it gladly slid aside, following the unspoken command of the master of earth. Inside was yet more dust, dust and crumbling bones.

Sammael bumped his head against Michael’s, quite intentionally, the oldest angel thought, as they looked in the stone coffin together.

“Wow,” the younger angel intoned with a voice as dry as the occupant. “This is some day out you’re treating me to.”

“You invited yourself along,” Michael reminded him.

“I was told you were going to Earth!” Sammael pointed an accusing finger at his brother. “You never go to Earth anymore! I wasn’t going to miss this chance to catch the Prince of Heaven having a rare bit of fun… but no, fun’s never on your menu anymore!”

Michael chose to ignore his brother as he brushed the lid back into place. “I think we’re in the wrong tomb.”

“Oh, you think? What gave it away?” Sammael spread his arms, turning slowly in a circle. “Could it be the pagan markings on the walls? Or the broken seal to the entrance? What are you even _looking_ for, anyway? And _why_?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Michael sighed.

“I am not some fledgling to be brushed off with vague dismissals,” Sammael snapped back, vaulting over the sarcophagus to press himself right up into Michael’s face. “I am your _partner_! Talk to me for once!”

Sammael’s eyes were turquoise today, like the ocean he loved. The blue-green shield glowed over barely-contained grace, churning in his annoyance. Michael brushed an unruly lock of hair out of those sea-colored eyes and let his fingers linger over Sammael’s borrowed skin. “Father tasked me-” he began, but already Sammael was scoffing and rolling said eyes in disgust.

“This is why I don’t talk to you anymore!” Michael pushed away from Sammael, his wings stretching and snapping against the air. “You belittle everything I do!” 

“Everything Father _tells_ you to do,” Sammael argued. “There is a difference!”

“There is none!”

“There _is_!” Sammael pushed in close again, dodging Michael’s defensive wings to press his hands against his brother’s chest. “You are not Father’s pawn.”

“I am a good son.” The answer was automatic, ingrained deep into Michael’s spirit.

Familiar irritation flared in Sammael’s eyes, but to Michael’s surprise, his brother actually caught the emotion and reined it in instead of flying on the heat of his anger. Sammael let out a breath through his nose, snorting almost like a bull and almost making Michael smile despite himself. He could practically _see_ his brother counting to ten inside his head before those eyes, calmer now, turned back to him. 

“You do not have to be perfect to be good, Michael,” Sammael murmured. He reached out, his hand caressing the side of Michael’s face. “Father will forgive you your mistakes and small dalliances. You’ve more than earned it.”

“I have earned nothing,” Michael answered, locked into his brother’s stare. Sammael’s fingers were cool against his skin. The second angel’s core was glittering ice, not fluid water. He carried a chill with him everywhere. No other angel burned cold like Sammael did. No other angel had an explanation for it. Sammael had always crowed over his uniqueness, but Michael knew the truth.

Sammael was the only dead angel.

Oh, other angels had _died_ , and Michael had mourned them all, but none had been like Sammael. No other angel had been shredded by the Leviathan of the Void, their grace bleeding out into the utter _nothingness_. Sammael had not always been cold, but there were no other witnesses to those few first years when he had burned hot and bright, like every other angel.

Other angels had died, but none had been cradled so lovingly in Death’s arms. None had been called back to the realm of the living by God Himself.

Sammael was dead because of Michael’s failures and flaws. Sammael had suffered because Michael had been selfish. Sammael had been _killed_ because of Michael’s neglect. Only God’s grace and love for Sammael, his favorite angel, had saved him from the unfair punishment dealt by Michael’s foolish, stupid actions.

_My debt is far too great to ever repay._

Every moment with Sammael had been stolen from Death. Every moment with Sammael was a borrowed treasure. Michael knew this, deep in his spirit. He _knew_ it, but he could not say it. He never could find the words to explain to his beloved brother how utterly he had once failed him.

_Never again._

“What about me?” Sammael asked. He cupped Michael’s face between his hands, leaning in close. A touch of frost lingered on his breath, just barely brushing over Michael’s lips. “Have I earned nothing?”

Michael sighed, letting his eyes fall closed as he sank forward into the brilliance that was his partner’s grace. Sammael sparkled and shone, his core of ice far more brilliant than any diamond. He was cold, yes, but it was a familiar cold, a _warm_ cold, if such a thing could exist. Wrapped in the sheets of Sammael’s wings, Michael always felt like he wanted for nothing, not even a kind word from their Father. He breathed in deeply, felt Sammael drawn to him, their lips meeting, pressing, drinking deep. Sammael’s ice melted into Michael’s rock solid core, their graces entwining, and they came together in this quiet tomb, brother to brother, partners united.

Michael felt Sammael’s pleased laughter from somewhere inside his own spirit, and he hummed his own approval as they lay together, their bodies wrapped as closely as their grace. He half expected to look out of Sammael’s eyes if he opened his own, so he didn’t even bother. He just twisted his wings around to hold Sammael as close as he could, his fingers carding through Sammael’s soft feathers. 

“I do love you,” Sammael eventually said, his head somewhere in the vicinity of Michael’s chest. “You don’t doubt that, right?”

“I have never doubted your love.” Michael’s voice rumbled around the cavern. It was easier to speak through the stone than this human’s throat, but he found the coordination to curl his fingers around Sammael’s pointed chin, stroking his face up so Michael could crack his eyes open and look down at him. “Not once. Not ever. Not since the moment you first Awakened.” Those ocean-dark eyes of Sammael’s slid away, and the cold that touched Michael’s core had nothing to do with his brother’s grace. “You doubt mine.”

“It’s so hard not to, sometimes.” Sammael burrowed closer into the embrace of Michael’s wings, and Michael could deny him nothing, adding his arms and tucking his head over his brother’s. “You turn aside my offers in favor of Father’s. You’re always doing _His_ bidding, putting aside _my_ wishes, _my_ requests. You act like _He’s_ more important! More important than _me_!” Sammael sprung to his feet, bursting free from Michael’s hold to leap onto the sarcophagus, ever eager for a chance to be dramatic. “I’m your _partner_!”

“And He’s our _Father_!” Michael countered, sitting up and watching his brother. “Sammael, I love you, and I always have, but He _is_ more important!”

“Nothing is more important than your partner,” Sammael declared, folding his arms defiantly. “You have a duty to _me_ , Michael. Not to Him.”

“Nothing is more important than our Father.” Michael spread his grace forward, brushing it over Sammael’s and willing him to understand. “He gave us life, my Light-bringer. He gave us each other. As He gives, so too can He take away.”

“If He’d take you away from me, He’s not worthy of my love or devotion,” Sammael sniffed.

“That’s not the _point_ , Sammael.” Michael pushed himself to his feet, his hands finding Sammael’s forearms and curling around the muscle. “He is our Father. We were designed to serve Him. Not to love each other.” Sammael opened his mouth to protest, but Michael silenced him with a kiss. “We _do_ love each other, but that is a secondary function to our primary reason for existence. We exist for His glory. Nothing else. Our lives are those of obedience. To _Him_.”

“Your life should be devoted to me.”

“It is, Light-bringer. As much as it can be.” Michael touched Sammael’s cheek, coaxed him into another gentle kiss. “All that is not His is yours.”

Sammael glowered through several more kisses, but his wings were relaxing as Michael coaxed the strain from his grace. “I do not agree,” he finally said. “But you will not be swayed this day.”

“Nor any,” Michael reminded Sammael, who merely rolled his eyes. Gabriel might change his mind fifteen times before a human had breakfast, but Michael was sturdy and stalwart, as strong and unchanging as a mountain.

“You were here on a quest…?”

It was as much of a peace offering as Sammael could give. His little brother was not one for apologies. Michael accepted the topic change with grace, sweeping Sammael gently off the sarcophagus. “Father sent me in search of a grail.”

“A grail?”

“A cup, a-”

“I know what a grail is.” Annoyance buzzed in Sammael’s voice. “What does Father want with a grail? He doesn’t drink, and anything found in a human tomb would be far too small for His might.”

“I did not question-”

“You _never_ question.”

“It is not our place.” Michael grit his teeth, staring down his brother and willing himself to stay calm.

Sammael sucked on the inside of his cheek, looking away pointedly. “Okay,” he relented. “Father wants a grail for His own ‘mysterious reasons.’ Why are we in a tomb?”

“It will be clasped at the heart of a dead prince,” Michael quoted, closing his eyes as he remembered his Father’s description. “No ordinary grail, this holds peace. Love. Hope.”

“Pandora’s box?”

“Would not be held by a dead prince,” Michael pointed out. “There are only so many of those in this world. We simply have to check the tombs of each until we find it.”

Three weeks later, Michael was kneeling before his Father in supplication. His search of all the princes’ tombs on Earth had been completely unsuccessful. No grail had been found. Filiel had begged him to return to Heaven, though, as there was far more work than the eldest Seraph could handle alone. But before he returned to his tower, Michael had to report his failure to his Father.

His outstretched wings trembled as he felt God’s presence wash over them. _Failure._ Once, he had promised that he would never fail his Father again. He would forever be a good son, in gratitude for all God had given him in the resurrection of Sammael. _I’m sorry, Father, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I tried, I did try, I looked everywhere I could…_

_Did you find the grail I asked you to seek?_ God’s voice resonated inside Michael’s mind. The angel flinched and gave the smallest shake of his head beneath his protective wings.

“N-no, Father.” Words were tight in Michael’s throat, and though he knew God did not need Michael to speak them to know them, he also knew his Father liked to hear the words actually voiced aloud. “I-I looked across the entire Earth, but there was no such grail anywhere to be found.”

_Were you not joined by Sammael?_

Michael flinched at the memory of Sammael at his side. Three weeks of looking, but after only three hours, Sammael had suggested a penance for every tomb they searched unsuccessfully. That penance always involved pleasure, and long hours of distracting Michael away from his task. “Father, he…” But Michael had no excuse. He had _allowed_ Sammael’s distractions, and was just as much at fault, if not more so. “I indulged in the pleasure of his company,” Michael admitted. “Far more than was appropriate, given the serious nature of my task on Earth.”

_And you did not find peace in the heart of a dead prince?_

“No, Father,” Michael whispered, ducking his head even further. “I failed you. I am sorry.”

A soft rumble of sadness emanated from the great being before the angel. Words unspoken brushed against his feathers.

_So am I._


End file.
